


kiss me on this cold december night

by WriterInWonderland



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Jumpers, Christmas Lights, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, baking cookies, lots of fluff, lots of hugs because we love hugs, newtmas are so in love, rather excessive kissing, travelling home for christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28262883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterInWonderland/pseuds/WriterInWonderland
Summary: “Merry Christmas Newt,” whispers Thomas.And Newt smiles, because this is it. The start of their first Christmas together. The first of many more to come.“Merry Christmas, love.”or; newtmas christmas au with lots of fluff, kisses and hugs. including matching christmas jumpers, baking christmas cookies, walking through christmas lights, and christmas eve at newt's parents' house. what more could you want?
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	kiss me on this cold december night

**Author's Note:**

> this is part of an alternative universe i've been writing, so consider this a little teaser for what's to come.  
> i hope you enjoy it :)

The door to the apartment bursts open and Newt jumps from where he’s tucked up under a blanket on the sofa, laptop resting on his knees with the TV playing a Christmas film softly in the background. A small candle is alight on the coffee table, and the rainbow Christmas lights from the tree flicker bursts of colour around the room, a pleasant contrast to the bleak December afternoon.

On Thomas’s request, he’d stayed home while his boyfriend went out to get the last few bits they needed from the shops before leaving for Newt’s parents’ house tomorrow morning. He’s mildly concerned about what he might be presented with, because letting Thomas loose in the shops at Christmastime was always going to be risky.

The sound of Thomas stubbing his toe on the santa doorstop for the millionth time this month fills the hallway, and Newt averts his gaze from his laptop screen with an amused smile. Thomas is bundled up in a huge winter coat, though his cheeks are still tinged red from the cold. He should have taken their hotdog scarf like Newt told him to.

“How was it?” Newt asks as he closes the lid of his laptop and pushes it aside.

Thomas is quick to dump the bags down by the door with a groan, shrugging off his coat as he slips off his shoes, and clambers under the blanket beside Newt. “Cold. Very cold.”

“I’m sorry.”

Newt wraps his arms around his boyfriend and pulls him closer to his chest. Usually Thomas is the one who’s like a literal furnace, so it’s nice to be the one providing the comfort of body heat for a change, having spent an hour beneath a blanket with the heating on high. Their gas bill is extortionate, and Newt only has himself to blame.

“You’re so warm,” murmurs Thomas, his head buried in the fabric of Newt’s cashmere jumper. “What were you working on?”

“I was just finishing chapter nineteen. It only needs a few more edits then it’ll be done,” says Newt, and he feels Thomas’s body go pliant as he pushes his fingers through his hair. He’s always loved the hair scratches, even before they got together.

“Does that mean I get to read it soon?”

“Of course,” says Newt, leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead.

For a while, they stay like that; tangled up together in a blanket of body warmth and comfort. _Home Alone_ is still playing on the TV, but Newt is only half watching it. They’ve already seen it at least ten times this year, anyway.

He can’t believe how quickly the run up to Christmas has gone, and he knows that he’s going to miss having all these decorations up when the new year begins. But for now, he gets to enjoy their rainbow Christmas tree which Minho and Teresa helped put up, along with all the other various items Thomas has collated over the past few weeks of shopping. 

(Newt tried to convince him that they did _not_ need a bobble head santa, but had inherently lost that fight. It now sits proudly on the shelf beside their potted plants. They both secretly love it.)

The rainbow lights on the tree and in the hallway were _,_ however, a joint decision because apparently this apartment is only getting gayer and gayer as time goes on, and Newt can’t see either of them complaining. Minho had even found them a rainbow glittery star to put at the top of the tree, as if the message hadn’t been brought across enough already. It’s possibly the best Christmas tree in existence, and Newt is so proud of it.

“Hey, do you want to see what I bought us?” Thomas asks, lifting his head to look at Newt with a smile and a glint in his eye that can only mean one thing—Newt was right to be concerned about his purchases.

“Go on then,” he says, reluctantly. “But I swear, if it’s another one of your ridiculous—”

“No, no, no. It’s not. I think you’ll like this one.”

Thomas kisses Newt’s cheek and departs their cocoon of warmth, having obviously reached a more comfortable body temperature, and he grabs one of the bags he’d discarded by the door. The way his eyes are so hopeful as he hands over the bag makes Newt’s heart swell, and he knows he doesn’t have it in him to turn down this gift, no matter how silly it is. Not when he’s giving him those ridiculous bambi eyes. 

The contents of the bag are soft when he reaches inside, and if he’s honest, he should have expected this to come sooner. Not a day has gone by this December where Thomas hasn’t told him how desperately he needs to wear a Christmas jumper for the ‘full experience’, and every day Newt has managed to get out of it. 

Except, the day has finally come.

He separates the two neatly folded Christmas jumpers, with Thomas watching him expectantly, and he can’t help but laugh. “Seriously, Tommy? Matching Christmas jumpers?”

“Do you like them? I spent ages choosing and I thought you’d like these ones best. You can choose if you want the black or white one.”

As far as Christmas jumpers go, these are on the lesser end of ugly. Newt would even go as far as saying that he really quite likes them. They’re woolen, embellished with brown reindeer antlers and a small red nose beneath a pair of eyes, against either black or white wool which is surprisingly soft beneath his fingertips.

“I love them,” he says, meeting Thomas’s gaze. “This is definitely the best thing you’ve come home with.”

“Well I think that bobble head santa was pretty good.”

“I beg to differ.”

Thomas laughs and leans forward for a kiss which is sweet enough to make Newt melt into his arms, hands coming up to cup his face. Even though they’ve been together for almost ten months, it’s still the simple, most authentic moments that Newt adores about their relationship; about Thomas. Being able to simply be with him like this is a luxury that Newt had almost convinced himself was never going to happen. Until it did. Until the universe decided that it was going to be on his side, and it gave him _Thomas._

Every day he wakes up with _him_ by his side, and every day he falls a little more in love. Despite all the crazy things he buys and the mess he sometimes brings with him, Newt loves him. And he knows he always will.

“I love you,” he says between kisses, only just realising how they’d shifted position and he was somehow in Thomas’s lap with the Christmas jumpers pressed between them.

“I love you too,” Thomas pulls away with a smile, and Newt fights the urge to kiss him once more. “I should have bought you a Christmas sweater sooner.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you going to put one on? Or do I need to undress you myself?”

Newt raises an eyebrow. “You’re asking me that question?”

“Sure am.”

“Dangerous territory, love.”

Thomas hums and leans up to kiss Newt’s nose, hands sneaking beneath the fabric of his jumper. At first, Newt leans into the contact. That is until the hands begin to tickle his sides and he squeals, squirming away from his boyfriend and attempting to slap his hands away as best he can. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it,” he says. “No more tickling. I’ll wear the jumper.”

In one smooth motion, he’s removing his cashmere jumper and replacing it with the white Christmas one, before tossing the black version at Thomas’s head. If he’s wearing one of these, then he’s making sure that Thomas is going to be matching. Fair is fair.

And if they end up rewinding _Home Alone_ and cuddling in their Christmas jumpers, then that’s no one's business but their own. 

-

“Babe, the egg is supposed to go in _before_ the flour.”

“Well I’ve already done it now, and it all goes in eventually.”

One of the last things on their list for this evening is to make a batch of Christmas cookies to take to Newt’s parents’ house. Maybe Newt should have left the baking to Thomas, considering that he is the best cook out of the two of them, but he’d insisted on helping with the hope that his baking skills might have improved at least slightly from the last time. Unfortunately for everyone, they have not.

“Why do cookies have eggs in them anyway?” Newt asks as he cracks one against the side of the bowl as Thomas had taught him. “Doesn’t that mean you’ll get salmonella if you lick out the bowl?”

“That’s why you don’t lick out the bowl.”

“But that’s bloody outrageous, everyone licks out the bowl.”

He can feel more than hear Thomas’s laugh against his shoulder when he wraps him up in a backwards hug. “It’s okay in very small amounts, but I don’t recommend it. I don’t want you getting sick right before Christmas.”

Newt can’t help but grin as Thomas presses a kiss into the fabric of the jumper covering his shoulder. It’s harder to stir the mixture with Thomas pressed up along his back like this, and it’s certainly a lot more distracting this way, but he finds himself leaning back further into his arms. The amount of times they’ve got distracted in the kitchen and burned their food is ridiculous, and Frypan would yell at them if he knew. 

Actually, that was how Minho found out they were together. That was a day Newt will remember forever.

Once the dough has been made successfully, Newt pushes up the sleeves of his Christmas jumper and begins to roll it out the best he can with Thomas clinging onto like a little koala. The thing is, he’s keeping him warm, so Newt’s not complaining.

“Are you going to use the circle cutter or the star?” asks Thomas, reaching across the counter to grab the two metal cookie cutters they’d set out.

“I think the star,” Newt says as he takes it from Thomas’s hand. “It’s more festive.”

“Good choice.”

Within a few non disastrous minutes, the cookies are rolled out and placed on their respective baking trays in the oven, and Newt leans against the counter with a contented sigh. “I can’t believe it’s Christmas eve tomorrow,” he says. “It’s gone so quickly.”

“It has,” Thomas nods as he comes to stand in front of Newt, arms braced around him. “I think it’s just because this semester was long, and then we had the mini Christmases and parties with everyone.”

“I know, I barely got you to myself.”

“Possessive, are we?” asks Thomas with an amused glint in his eyes that he _knows_ Newt can never resist. That along with those bambi eyes of his. What a devil.

“Very,” Newt circles his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, pulling him closer. “You’re all mine.”

Thomas smirks and raises his chin to whisper in Newt’s ear. “All yours and always yours.”

And yes, Newt knows it’s irresponsible of them to get carried away while the cookies are in the oven, especially because of what’s happened before, but he feels no guilt when Thomas’s lips meet his own. He’s warm and tastes discreetly like the syrup he licked from the spoon just minutes ago; sweet and intoxicating.

As Thomas presses him against the counter, he quickly forgets that they’re not supposed to be getting distracted right now. Thomas is one hell of a distraction, and he’s doing a rather fine job of it right now. Such power should be illegal.

He’s barely comprehended the hand that’s pushing through his curls when a loud ringing noise snaps them out of it. For a moment, Newt is dazed and confused. Thomas’s kisses have that effect on him. But then he realises, seemingly at the same time as Thomas, that it’s the doorbell.

“Who’s that?” Newt asks, still slightly breathless.

“I don’t know, we’re not expecting anyone, are we?”

They’re not, because most of their friends have gone home early or should have left this morning. It’s already the day before Christmas eve, and the only reason they’re still here is because Newt’s parents only get home tonight as their flight was delayed back from London due to all the recent snow. It feels weird not to be home for the holidays yet.

Anyway: the doorbell.

It rings impatiently twice more before they can reach the door, but Newt already knows who’s going to be standing outside even before Thomas opens it. Nobody else would ring the bell quite that excessively.

“Don’t tell me you shanks were too busy making out to answer the door to your best friend.”

Minho gives them both feigned evil glares, and all Newt can do is smile sheepishly at him, gaze falling to the cardboard box in his hands. “Hello to you, too, Min. What are you still doing here? I think you were going home this morning.”

“I had some errands to run. Now take this because my cab’s waiting outside,” he pushes the box into Thomas’s hands and Newt catches a glimpse of several carefully wrapped presents. “There’s one for Sonya and for your parents, and for both of you. You didn’t think I was leaving without giving you your presents, did you?”

“I thought you said the dinner was your present to everyone,” says Thomas, placing the box down in the hallway behind him. Newt subtly pushes it back with his foot because Thomas is destined to trip on it otherwise.

“Well, it was. But you deserve more than that.”

“Aww.”

The cooing comes from Thomas who’s quickly silenced with a whack over the head by Minho for his audacity, and Newt just watches on as he tries to suppress a giggle. These are two of his favourite people in the whole world. He loves them with his whole heart.

“I need to run,” says Minho. “Have a good Christmas and tell Sonya I say hello.”

Newt nods and leans in for a hug, “I will. Merry Christmas, Min. Thank you for the presents, and I hope you like what we gave you last week.”

“I’m sure I will, you always give the best gifts but don’t tell the others I said that.”

“Of course not, they’ll have your head for it.”

After giving Thomas a hug of his own, Minho leaves with a wink and a finger gun before speeding off back down the corridor. Even though they’re travelling back to the same town, where they grew up, they decided to travel separately. Maybe all three of them can meet up at some point, or Newt’s going to miss seeing his best friend.

As soon as the door closes, the timer goes off for the cookies and it’s a mad rush to the kitchen to get them out before they start to burn. Thankfully, they’re in luck.

-

“Hey, Tommy?” Newt calls into the kitchen from his spot on the sofa.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to come for a walk with me?”

There’s a moment of silence before Thomas appears from the kitchen with a smile, and rounds the back of the sofa to embrace Newt is some sort of backwards hug. (He does this a lot and Newt really, really loves it. Minho says they’re always attached at either the hip or mouth, and he’s not wrong in the slightest.)

“Sure, where are we headed?” he asks, resting his chin down on Newt’s shoulder.

“Hmm. Let me surprise you.”

He’s been meaning to take Thomas to a place he stumbled upon completely accidentally a few days ago, which he promised to return to when it was dark, preferably with his boyfriend in tow. He knows Thomas is going to love it. It was just a matter of deciding when to go.

After pulling on the necessary layers of clothing, and having a small argument over who should wear the hotdog scarf they share (which Newt ultimately lost, so now seems to be wearing it), they head off out into the cold December night. Snow cushions the streets as they walk, gloved hands entwined, and Newt can practically smell the possibility of more to fall later. 

He doesn’t like the snow, but Thomas adores it and so he somehow manages to suppress all the hate he feels towards the wet, cold and slushy substance that occasionally falls from the sky. Although Thomas’s smile is surely enough to convert him as it is.

There’s a slight breeze as they pass beneath streetlight after streetlight, and Newt is grateful for the warmth of the scarf around his neck and the layers that Thomas threw on him. He’s come a long way from the boy who used to forget his coat or gloves, but he only has Thomas to thank for that. He has Thomas to thank for a lot of things, actually.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going or are you finally abducting me?” Thomas asks, tightening his hold on Newt’s hand and huddling further into his coat. His red cheeks are adorable. Newt can hardly believe he’s all his.

“If I wanted to abduct you, I would have done it a long time ago, love.”

“That’s not making me feel any better.”

Newt snorts and tugs Thomas around the next corner, before being stopped in his tracks when his boyfriend comes to an abrupt halt, mouth hanging open. It really is a spectacle:

The two rows of houses are illuminated in an array of bright, flashing or static colour. Each house has a variety of different Christmas lights, and it’s so vibrant and so beautiful that both boys simply stare. It’s a lot to comprehend; it certainly hadn’t looked like _this_ in the daylight.

“Oh. My. God,” Thomas says slowly, and Newt tears his eyes away from the hypnotic display to look at his grinning boyfriend. Despite the Christmas lights, Thomas’s smile is the brightest thing here. Brighter than a Christmas star, even.

“You like it?” asks Newt.

“Uh huh. More than.”

Their eyes are everywhere as they begin to wander down the street, unable to fixate on one point for too long because there’s just _so much going on._ And they’re not the only people here, either. Families with children and a few old people are enjoying it as well, running through the tunnels of light in someone's front garden and snapping photos that will surely end up on Facebook by the end of the night. 

A sign by the side of the road notifies them that all these lights are for a children’s charity, and both boys completely empty their pockets into the donation box. Many of the other people on the street do the same. It’s a wonderful reminder of what Christmas is all about; being there for others, helping those less fortunate than themselves and spreading love and happiness to the people of the world. It’s so easy to forget in a culture that’s so materialistic.

“Want to walk through the lights before we go?” asks Thomas, and Newt lets him lead them towards and then into one of the tunnels which sends shards of dancing, shimmering light flickering across their faces. 

It’s a struggle to keep his eyes away from Thomas because these lights make him look so _good_ and, well, Newt is only human. He must have been caught staring when they reach another tunnel with soft yellow lights, because Thomas stops walking and turns to face him.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” he says, hands coming up to cup Newt’s face. “I love it so much.”

“I’m glad.”

Their lips meet in the sweetest of kisses, fleeting yet wonderful. It speaks so many words; words which don’t need to become tangible for either to know what the other is feeling. Thomas pulls away to tug his phone out of his pocket, and fumbles to remove one of his gloves so he can jab a finger at the screen. When he raises the camera for a selfie, Newt huddles closer and smiles brightly. 

Content would be the word he uses to describe this feeling. Content, happy, and so in love. In love with this place, this season, this person. In love with life.

Yeah. Definitely in love with life.

-

When Newt wakes up on Christmas eve morning, he has an arm slung around his waist and a warm, cosy feeling in his heart. The room is bathed in a soft orange glow which softens every edge and makes the morning feel hazy, though that might just be because Newt’s still half asleep. He glances down at his sleeping boyfriend who’s curled up against him, head resting against his shoulder, and carefully moves a stray piece of hair from his face. 

Thomas’s freckles are just visible in this light, and Newt allows himself to study the scatter across his cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose, a feature Newt’s always admired since the first time they hung out properly. That was when he wasn’t allowed to stare; to appreciate and admire. But now he is, and he takes every opportunity to cherish the boy he can now call his.

Newt reaches a hand up to push his fingers gently through Thomas’s hair in an attempt to wake him in as pleasant a way as possible. He’d let him sleep if he could. The trouble is, they have to catch the train at nine thirty, to get to Newt’s parents house by two.

Luckily, they packed up most of their stuff last night. All of the presents (including the ones from Minho’s box) managed to fit inside one suitcase, with everything else they’ll need in the other. The only thing left to sort out is themselves.

“Time to wake up, love,” he murmurs fondly, as Thomas slowly begins to stir.

There’s a moment of silence as he gains consciousness, before his voice comes out low and croaky. “Why’d you stop playing with my hair?” he asks, and that question alone takes Newt right back to the first night they spent together, accidentally cuddling but letting it happen long since they became conscious. 

That might have been the moment Newt realised just how uncontrollably in love he would fall with this boy.

“Because we have to get up now, or we’ll miss the train,” says Newt, though he wants nothing more than to stay in bed, like this, a little longer.

“It’s too early.”

“Says the one who booked the early tickets.”

Thomas makes some sort of huff of disapproval but doesn’t complain any further, instead choosing to bury his face in Newt’s chest with a sigh. He’s really not making this easy for either of them. 

The clock on the wall reads 8:10 am. 

Ten more minutes can’t hurt, right?

-

Ten minutes can, in fact, hurt a lot.

Newt is realising this as he and Thomas sprint onto the platform with the wind in their hair and two suitcases between them which they barely manage to haul onto the train before the doors seal shut behind them. The whistle blows, and the train begins to move.

“That… was close,” Newt says as he gasps for breath, collapsing down onto the seat beside Thomas, who is looking more than a little sheepish.

“Well, we still made it,” he says. “Just about.”

“I blame you.”

“Yeah. I blame me, too.”

For the first half an hour, Newt watches Thomas play _Among Us_ on his phone (his name is samoht because he thinks he’s hilarious), and varies between resting his head on Thomas’s shoulder or staring out the window. It snowed again last night, just enough to spread a whole new layer of white upon the world. Beyond the window, it looks like some sort of winter wonderland which shimmers and glows as it reflects the brightness of the sunlight. 

Some might call it the perfect winter morning. 

Newt, however, would not.

At some point in the journey, one of the other passengers puts on a Christmas hat and plays music from their phone, to which Thomas sings along unashamedly. Only when he starts singing Mariah Carey does Newt give him a glare, because his high notes are often questionable, and a public space isn’t the place to practice them.

“What?” Thomas asks with a smile. “It’s Christmas eve, babe, get festive.”

And Newt can’t help but grin as the music is turned up louder and other people nearby begin singing along with it, because this is one of the rare moments where humanity shows the best side of itself. So he allows Thomas to sing to him, and he even ends up participating, too, by the last chorus, as the festivity and pure happiness of the season wash over him.

Life is made up of beautiful little moments, and this is certainly one of those.

-

When the train stops at their station, they wish the person playing the music a merry Christmas and dive into the taxi that’s waiting for them, suitcases stacked up in the back. It brings back all the memories of home as they drive through the familiar streets, even passing by Newt’s old high school and the park he used to hang out in with Minho.

“That’s where I came out to Minho,” Newt says, pointing out the window. “In the summer before freshman year.”

Thomas reaches for his hand across the seat and squeezes. “What did he say?”

“That he’s proud of me. But also that he knew.”

Most of the time, that was the reaction he got from people. Maybe he wasn’t exactly subtle with his attraction to boys, or maybe the people he’s closest to are just able to read him well. It’s only their opinions he cares about, anyway.

As the taxi pulls into the driveway of Newt’s parents house, he catches a glimpse of the Christmas tree in the window (a real one, such is their tradition) which glows with warm yellow lights. He turns to see Thomas smiling back at him. This is their first Christmas together—hopefully the first of many—and Newt can’t wait to make it as special as possible.

With the suitcases dumped by the front door, Newt reaches up to ring the doorbell which has barely rung once before the door flies open and he’s stumbling backwards with the weight of his sister pulling him into a hug.

“You’re _here!”_ says Sonya, and she releases Newt with a grin before pouncing on Thomas. “It’s so good to see you both, how was the trip?”

“It was fine, Lizzy. Please stop suffocating my boyfriend.”

She laughs and releases Thomas (who looks mildly afraid) from her vice like grip. They’ve met before, multiple times now, including over Facetime during the siblings’ weekly calls from their respective universities. The first time Thomas met Sonya was over Facetime, and it had been incredibly embarrassing for Newt who had yet to admit his ever growing feelings.

Sonya helps them bring the suitcases into the hallway and they’re met with the glorious smell of pine from the real Christmas tree, as well as an abundance of spices from what must be a Christmas cake in the oven. 

The familiar sound of four feet clattering down the stairs makes him look up, and the black Labrador he knows and loves comes charging towards him. “Bark!” he exclaims as his dog jumps up to give him a hug and lick, before moving onto Thomas and giving him a thorough sniff. 

“Hey buddy,” says Thomas, and Bark must decide that he remembers him because he barks excitedly and attempts to lick his face.

Newt is about to ask after his parents when he hears a yell from the kitchen, his mum, and then his dad appears around the corner, trying to balance two trays of drinks in his hands.

Of course, Thomas reacts quickly and is grabbing one of the trays from his hands and steadying the cups which were almost destined to go flying.

“Hey, Thomas!” his dad, Mark, shouts and is quick to discard the trays and bundle him into a hug as if Newt, his _child,_ isn’t here at all. He doesn’t mind it. He actually adores how well Thomas and his dad get on.

“And Newt, my boy,” Mark says as he also pulls him into a hug. “How’ve you both been? We’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, dad. We’ve been okay, almost missed the train, though, because Tommy here wanted a lie in.”

Thomas laughs and nudges their shoulders together. “Hey, it’s not my fault you can’t resist my cuddles.”

“Alright, Bambi.”

Newt can feel the waves of eye roll coming from his sister, though he doesn’t have to turn to look at her to see that she’s smiling. Before he can speak to her, however, his mum, Grace, comes running out of the kitchen, throwing the oven gloves over one shoulder, and makes something like a squealing noise when she hugs him. 

Coming home is always like this; a breath of fresh air and familiarity. When Thomas visited for the first time, as his boyfriend, it had been different. _Good,_ but still different. It had felt like his two worlds were colliding, and he wasn’t sure how well they were going to react together.

He needn’t have worried about a thing.

Thomas, as the caring, most perfect human being he is, fitted in with such certainty that Newt knew everything was going to be okay. He’s been a part of the family ever since. Even so, Newt’s excited to see how Christmas is going to play out for them.

“I missed you boys so much,” says Grace, kissing both of their cheeks. “Now, go take your things upstairs. Cake should be ready in twenty minutes.”

Now that he has his personal space back, Newt takes the chance to admire all the decorations up in this house. Tinsel is wound all the way up the stairs, and the hallway flashes with multicoloured lights, a contrast to the warm white ones on the Christmas tree in the living room. The entire house is festive, and Newt expected no less of his parents.

Thomas follows him up to his bedroom, with Bark hot on their heels, and he can’t help but smile at the mini Christmas tree placed on his desk, with tiny decorations and miniature lights. Aside from that, the entire room is exactly as he left it.

“Have I mentioned that I love your parents and sister?” Thomas asks as he flops down on Newt’s bed (which is, technically, _their_ bed for the next few nights).

Newt sits down beside him, and pats the bed for Bark to jump up, too. “A fair few times,” he says, snaking an arm around Thomas’s waist. “Are you excited to experience Christmas at the Wenley house?”

“Definitely. I’m just glad I get to spend it with you.”

“Aww.”

Their lips have barely met before an exaggerated groan comes from the doorway and they break apart, faces still close together, to see Sonya standing there, glaring at them, with her hands on her hips. “Seriously, guys?” she asks, though her half smile gives her away instantly. “I come to see you, and _this_ is what I get? You didn’t even close the door.”

“Chill out, Lizzy, it was just a kiss.”

“Kisses can lead to complications,” Sonya shrugs. “I don’t want to have to bleach my brain, thank you very much. It’s Christmas.”

“Exactly, so come on and indulge us with some festive cheer while I unpack.”

While Sonya begins one of her many rambles about how college is going for her, Thomas listening intently like the wonderful soul he is (whereas Bark, however, has fallen asleep), Newt begins to tackle the array of things they brought with them. Luckily, most of what they needed was already here, so there are only a few necessities to unpack.

“And I told Rachel, there is _no way_ she can rollerblade to class while it’s icy, and then Harriet pulls out her ice skates and I have to talk them _both_ out of that. I’m not even kidding, it’s like living with five year olds.”

Thomas is trying not to outright laugh at yet another of Sonya’s ridiculous stories, and Newt knows that he’s in for a treat over the next couple of days.

-

Newt is curled up beside Thomas on the sofa as _The Snowman_ plays on the TV, a blanket thrown over their knees and the fire crackling in the background, which Bark is asleep beside. They managed to successfully bring all the presents downstairs to put them under the tree, an abundance of gifts from people at university, to each other, and to Sonya and his parents. 

Now, all five of them enjoy a warm mug of tea with a piece of freshly baked Christmas cake and one of the cookies they made yesterday. With snow falling gently from the heavens, it couldn’t feel more festive if they tried.

When he rests his head down on Thomas’s shoulder, he catches Sonya looking at them. She’s smiling, fondly, and Newt knows exactly what she’s thinking: he’s come a long way, especially this year. And seeing him this happy, with the person who makes him the happiest he’s ever been, is something that Newt hopes makes his family proud.

Dinner is a gorgeous casserole (courtesy of his dad), and they spend a fair amount of time catching up about their various aspects of life, before returning to the living room to hang the stockings by the fireplace. They’re all matching, including one for Bark, and Newt made sure to get Thomas one of the same. 

The look on his face when Newt surprises him with it is so precious.

They head off to bed at around eleven, after wishing Sonya and his parents a merry Christmas and giving Bark the final kisses and cuddles he asks for. Although, he usually ends up sneaking into Newt’s room and curling up on his bed on the nights that he’s home, anyway.

With the lights dimmed and the bedroom door closed behind them, Newt finally takes the chance to kiss Thomas properly. It’s gentle; intimate. So full of the love they can only give each other. An ‘i love you’ in its sweetest, purest form. Newt can’t recall a time where they didn’t share these intimate moments, even as just friends, and he relishes in the fact that this is all theirs; a moment shared between the two of them, needing no explanation as to why.

Thomas pulls away, eventually, and rests his forehead against Newt’s, eyes closed. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“For what?”

“For letting me stay with you and your family.”

Newt reaches up to cup Thomas’s face and only then does he open his eyes, pools of amber and honey gazing up at him. “Well I wasn’t going to leave you in our apartment all alone was I?”

“No, I’m serious,” Thomas places a hand over one of Newt’s, and his face reads such sincerity that it takes him by surprise. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, Tommy. You’re part of this family now, okay? Part of all of our lives. And it’ll stay that way, I promise.”

Thomas’s eyes fill with tears, and Newt pulls him into a hug because he knows exactly what he’s thinking. He’s been through a lot in his nineteen years of life. ‘Family’ is something that means a lot to him, but it’s something that’s always been unstable; changing around him. Newt’s just glad that he can be the one to make him feel at home.

“I love you,” Thomas whispers as he pulls him into a hug.

“I love you too, Tommy. Always.”

It must be minutes that go by as they embrace, bodies warm under the fabric of their matching Christmas jumpers. Sometimes, it feels as if they’re holding each other up, both mentally and physically. They’re each other's lifeline; a support system which runs deeper than the word ‘boyfriends’. That’s why they clicked from the first hello all those months ago, and why they continue to click with every passing minute.

“Are you going to Skype Mary and Vince tomorrow?” Newt asks as he rubs soothing circles into Thomas’s back. “And Chuck?”

“Yeah, I am. Chuck wants me to call him in the evening. It’s his first Christmas back with his parents but he says he misses me, and I miss him, too. Obviously the time difference will be strange for Mary and Vince in Paris, but I’ll work something out.”

Newt met Thomas’s old foster parents, Mary and Vince, for his birthday just after they got together. They were some of the loveliest people he’s ever met, and he could tell how much they cared about Thomas, even when he was no longer under their care. 

And _Chuck,_ bless him. He’s like a little brother to Thomas. This is the first Christmas they’re spending apart, now that Chuck’s gone back home to his parents, and it must feel strange for both of them.

“It’ll be nice for you to speak to them,” says Newt. “They can tell you about their trip to Paris. Maybe we can go one day if you like the sound of it.”

“Well they _do_ call it the city of love.”

“That’s rather fitting, then,” Newt places a fleeting kiss on Thomas’s lips. “Alright, well I’m going to take a shower before bed. Feel free to join me.”

-

After a warm shower and about an hour of watching the end of _Elf_ on the TV in Newt’s room, they finally decide to turn the lights off to get some sleep. His eyelids are already beginning to droop closed, so Thomas leans over and flicks off the lamp beside the bed in one smooth motion, before laying back down and pulling Newt close. 

In his state of near unconsciousness, Newt yields easily.

A kiss is placed on his forehead, and a loose curl tucked behind his ear. It’s so cosy in here beneath the duvet and beside the furnace that is Thomas, and he knows he’s not going to be able to stay awake much longer. But he manages to wrap an arm around Thomas and curl up against him, feeling the soft tendrils of sleep begin to tug him under.

“Merry Christmas Newt,” whispers Thomas.

And Newt smiles, because this is it. The start of their first Christmas together. The first of many more to come.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this is for everyone on [Twitter,](https://twitter.com/newtswonderland) i love you all so much x  
> merry christmas everyone  
> <3


End file.
